


Guardian, Human, Shadow

by joypendants



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Gen, Nostalgia, One-Sided Relationship, POV Second Person, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joypendants/pseuds/joypendants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a role to play: You are a guardian. You are not to be emotionally invested in your charges. </p><p>Or, the one where Sheik reminisces about stolen moments of peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian, Human, Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written all in one sitting, aaaand isn't entirely what I was aiming for, but it will do! Enjoy!

There were little moments of peace that you clung to despite the way that the world seemed to collapse about your shoulders, leaving you carrying a burden far too heavy for you to bear on your own. And yet you bore it –– you always did. You were a soldier. You were a servant. You were a protector. 

You were a shadow, and that is all you would ever be. 

The light of day was not meant for the likes of you; you were meant to hang back, to stay in the darkness, to let those light-dwellers do what they would. You simply protected. You kept them safe, whether they knew it or not. 

Quietly, quietly, you watched. You looked on. You saw them struggle, saw them win. You saw them rise above the challenges they thought would defeat them. They never knew that you were there, waiting, waiting, keeping them safe in the smallest of ways. A watchful eye on a dark night, someone tending to the fire while they slept. You were silent protecter, quiet sentinel, watching over those light-dwellers. You kept them safe. 

(It was almost peaceful, looking after them; sometimes, they look almost heartbreakingly young. You always had the desire to keep them safe.) 

Perhaps, once upon a time, before the world fell apart, you could have been friends. 

Now, you all had a role to play –– the Princess, the Hero, the Guardian. 

You were the Guardian. Quiet, never interfering too much, acting as a guide and a teacher. You kept them safe –– kept her safe, kept him on the right path –– and that was enough. You were never meant to get close to them, never meant to be more than a protector, more than a barrier between them and the darkness that wanted to snuff out their brilliant light. 

Once upon a time, you had been a person. Now, you were simply a shadow, trained to be such and nothing more. 

And yet, despite it all, there were still little moments of peace where you felt that once, you may have been able to befriend the two of them. Now, however, it was improper. Now, you were simply protector, guardian, guide. 

Still, it is in the small moments, the stolen ones that were never supposed to be, where you allow yourself to be human. You allow yourself to feel, to let a small smile cross hidden features. You let your guard down –– barely, barely, but just enough to feel human for a little while –– and you feel _normal._

A fire, crackling against a dark night. An offering of food (which you tentatively accept), and quiet conversation. It strikes you that this you are not the only one who lost a childhood; the Hero –– he lost his childhood as well. He lost as much as you did. You two: you are more similar than you think. 

The three of you–– You are all the same. All of you are really only little children, innocence lost to a darkness that still threatens to steal what is left of your hope. 

He sits close to you, and you know you should leave. You should leave, go check upon your other charge (though she is safe: you know she is. She can look after herself, and, of course, your mentor is with her still). However, you hesitate. You linger a moment, letting the warmth of the fire wash over you, letting the Hero convince you to stay, _just for a little while longer, please, just for a minute._

The dark nights always seemed a bit lighter when you stayed by the Hero’s side. 

He always fell asleep first, sword by his side and arm used as a pillow. You stayed up, tending the fire –– you always tried to slip away before he awoke, once you had ensured that the area was safe. (Protect him first; the world needs him. You are a shadow. You are nothing compared to his brilliant light.) 

That did not always happen, of course. You are still only human. Errors can be made –– though you know that they can be deadly. 

You will never forget the first time that you fall asleep by the fire, exhaustion clinging to your bones, making you lethargic and careless (you didn’t even check the area before you dozed off! Who knows what might have been lurking in the dark! You got lucky, you got lucky. It might not always be that way). It had been a mistake. You were supposed to stay only for a moment, passing along a message from the Princess, but it did not turn out that way. You lingered too long, getting too comfortable in the presence of the Hero. You were not supposed to let that happen. You had promised yourself that you would be careful, that you would be distant. 

Something about him always lulled you into a sense of security, though. Something about him always put you at ease. 

It was dangerous.

When you awoke, it was to him carefully draping his cloak over you. You were silent, you did not move: something about the way he handled you caught you by surprise, making you freeze much like a rabbit in the sights of a wolf. He was gentle. 

You were not used to gentle. 

You were uncertain what to do with yourself: did you let him know you were awake? Did you let brush off the cloak, rise to your feet, and disappear like you always did? What were you to do? You had never been in this situation before. You were always the one who looked after others. You were not accustomed to being on the receiving end of kindness. 

––No, you were not being kind when you looked after them. You were just doing your job. This, however, was not a job. The Hero had no obligation to be kind to you, to ensure that you were safe and warm. He did not have to give you his cloak. He did not have to do _any_ of the things he did for you –– share his food, make conversation… None of that was part of his job, and yet he did it anyway. 

You wondered if you were being unkind by somewhat leading him on with your small acts of…not kindness. They were your job.

(And yet, despite that fact, you still _did_ care. You did. You were not supposed to get emotionally invested in your charges, but you…you could not help yourself. You saw parts of yourself in both of them, and that was dangerous.)

You remained still while the Hero settled down beside you, lying on his side as he always did, sword within reach and shield propped up against the weapon. You were quiet, unsure if the Hero knew that he had awoken you.

You did not sleep any more that night. You simply watched the fire, watched the shadows and the way they danced across the Hero’s softened features. It was a dangerously tender moment, something that you committed to memory. 

You should have left. You should have draped the Hero’s cloak about his sleeping form and left, but you didn’t. You let yourself savour this, the quietness that hung about the cool night air, the serenity that came with it. 

You engraved the quiet night into your mind, memorizing every sensation: the way the rough cloak wrapped itself around you, the sound of the Hero’s quiet breaths, the way the smoke from a dwindling fire hung heavy in the air, coating itself over your tongue––

You swore to yourself that it would never happen again: this was a one-time thing, and it would never, ever _ever_ be allowed to happen again. 

Just once, though, it wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t hurt for you to pretend that you and the Hero were friends. It wouldn’t hurt to stay awhile.

You left at dawn, carefully setting the Hero’s cloak over his sleeping form, a quiet moment of tenderness lacing your movements. You weren’t supposed to _truly_ care. This was supposed to be a job––

And yet, despite your training, despite what you told yourself, you cared. 

Stolen moments kept you sane. The darkness could never truly swallow you while you kept yourself dangerously human, and those small moments (the times you stood too close to the Hero, the times you spoke too long with him, the quiet moments that held unspoken words) were what kept you grounded. 

The little moments were dangerous, but they were what kept you human.

**_fin._ **


End file.
